


the iron crown affair

by operationhades



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Because Tony took over the world by accident, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pepper is the Queen of Midgard, The Nine Realms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 01:46:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operationhades/pseuds/operationhades
Summary: Queen Pepper would like it on record that she did not - in any manner whatsoever - encourage one Tony Stark to 'bang that hot pale ass like an angry fist of God'.





	the iron crown affair

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this years ago and i'm just so sick and tired of it sitting on my harddrive so here, have it. i'll try and get more out but, at this point, i've given up trying to actually get fics completed _first_ then posting. *throws hands in air*

Queen Pepper would like it on record that she did not - in any manner whatsoever - encourage one Tony Stark to 'bang that hot pale ass like an angry fist of God'.

No. Just- no. Absolutely not.

"Are you _insane_ , Tony?" She demanded, pacing the raised podium of her throne. "You could have offended him! And his father, the _King_! You could have started an inter-realm _war_!"

"But he liked it!" Tony argued, lounging like a cat on the chair he'd installed beneath the tiles for himself. JARVIS was in control of it, like he was in control of pretty much everything, raising it out of the ground whenever Tony was around and lowering it back into hiding whenever he wasn't. There were six other chairs and a table hidden underneath the tiles as well, just in case they had guests. "He totally found it amusing!"

Tony didn't sound all too pleased about that even as he said it. Mostly he just looked insulted.

"And thank god for that!" Pepper replied, turning swiftly on a heel to stalk down the three steps of her throne and stop in front of Tony. "Tony, what were you _thinking_?"

The dark haired genius squinted up at her dubiously, legs thrown casually over an armrest, back resting half on the other and the other half on the actual backrest of the chair. "Pep," Tony said carefully, eyeing her up and down contemplatively. "Darlin', you know what I was thinking. I was thinking his ass looked _amazing_ in those leather pants. And then afterwards I was thinking that they'd look even better _out_ of those leather pants."

"Shit," a new voice said, the image of one Clint Barton bleeding out of the shadows joining them in the grand hall. "I thought Rhodes was fucking with me 'bout that. Did you _really_ hit on the second prince of Asgard? In front of _everybody_?"

"Yes!" Pepper shouted incredulously, gesturing at Clint wildly as he confirmed just how insane that was. "The crown prince - _his older brother_ \- was about ready to smite him down with his _magic hammer_!"

Clint leaned over the back of the chair, morbid curiosity all over his face and voice as he reluctantly asked, "And Prince Loki? How did he take it?"

"He _laughed_ ," Tony replied indignantly, huffing childishly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Clint winced. "Ouch, man.” He said consolingly, “Struck out, huh?" He patted Tony on the arm sympathetically.

Pepper stared at them both for a long, silent moment, before saying, in a quiet, dangerously ice cold voice that matched the paleness of her blue gown, "Both of you. Out. _Now_."

Clint immediately stood to attention, wide eyed and twitchy as Tony grumbled and lazily pulled himself up to a standing position.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony waved her off, their _Queen_ , slouching and scratching at his iconic goatee. "We'll leave you to plot the death of our enemies. See ya, Pep."

"I'll plot _your_ death." Queen Virginia muttered under her breath as she stalked back to her throne, her voice just loud enough that Clint heard her loud and clear, and paled a little in fear. Granted, Clint Barton was a man that hung around Natasha, so he feared pretty much any woman that was even remotely displeased, which was probably for the best.

Tony grinned in amusement to himself as he threw an arm over Clint's shoulder companionably, completely unbothered by Pepper’s ire as he steered them both towards the exit at a languish pace.

"Tell me," He spoke up after a while, the red of his armour bleeding warmth and fire in the dying sunset that was visible outside the wide, open arches of the hallway they walked through. "What, exactly, is being said about my failed pick up?"

Despite himself, Clint snorted. "Oh, you're gonna love it."

And after regaling Tony the still spiralling stories that were being passed around the people, Tony had to agree. He absolutely loved it.

#

Every century, Asgard hosted the very realms it protected in its own home, be they friend or foe, to supposedly foster good will between them. Every realm, that was, except for Midgard.

Loki couldn't blame the realms for disregarding Midgard. With its lack of a single, ultimate ruler or governing body, it seemed almost too _young_ , childish even, far too uncivilised and incapable of truly dealing business with the immortal gods that made up the rest of the nine realms to be allowed entry into the golden halls of the Aesir. King's and Queen's arrived in their finest, dignitaries gifted only the rarest of furs and the strongest of drinks, and all were on their best behaviour, as expected of such an auspicious event. Who would represent Midgard, with its thousands of mortals that bickered and squabbled and died in the blink of an eye? What could they possibly offer, in a room of the finest brought by beings of far superiority to them?

Nothing, Loki knew. They could bring absolutely nothing.

Or so he’d thought.

The dark elf dignitary he’d been speaking too went still, trailing off in the middle of the lovely story he’d been telling Loki of the latest magical finding in Svartleheim. After the barest of pause, he said, “I had thought all the guests had arrived…”

Frowning, Loki quirked an eyebrow and confirmed. “Yes,” he said slowly. “They have. Muspleheim’s dignitary had been the last to come.”

“Strange,” said the dark elf, Malakheith. “Then I wonder who it is.”

Loki knew the dark ones had heightened senses, could _sense_ someone in the same way Loki could sense his own being, so rather than refute Malakeith’s words, he turned to face the same direction as the elf – towards the grand doors – and waited.

Not even a moment later, the thumping of a staff rang out throughout the golden hall, and the hum of conversation went hushed as all turned in confusion to the announcer. The grand doors swung open slowly, opening up to allow passage of the royal guards that accompanied in the newcomers. The announcer thumped his staff twice more, belied his own confusion and nervousness with a clearing of his throat, and boomed, "Announcing Queen Virginia of Midgard, accompanied by the Men of Iron, Anthony Stark and James Rhodes!"

Loki stared, shocked into silence and disbelief along with every other in the golden hall, and stared as the newcomers strode in towards them.

It was glaringly visible as to who the Queen might have been amongst the trio, the only female who stood tall and regal amongst them, with pale skin and fiery red hair that matched the intelligence in her green eyes. She was flanked on either side by two men, both wearing strange, flexible looking armour that glinted and shone, a strange contradiction to the perfectly tailored gown the queen wore – one that Loki knew would rile the faes of Vanaheim in envious jealousy.

The knight to the Queen’s right – what had the announcer called them, men of iron? – wore armour in a confident mix of red and gold, whereas the one to her left settled for an intimidating steel grey. They both moved with unnatural ease in what should have been immobilising metal, accompanying their queen as she breezed through the hall to the long table where everyone was seated. Without word or hesitation they fell into place at her shoulders, one on each side, and remained standing as she took the seat a servant was quick to offer her in between a shocked crown prince of Asgard and an envious delegate of Vanaheim.

Loki, eyebrows raised at the unexpected turn of what was usually an utterly dull conference, watched from where he sat opposite Thor, next to Frigga where Thor sat next to Odin. The hall remained silent, everyone seemingly holding their breath for what would happen next. Loki himself eyed the red and gold knight, something strange about the utter confidence that all but oozed off the man, something even stranger about the steel-grey knight shooting his comrade a quelling look.

Before he could figure out if it was dissent he was picking up on or something completely different, Odin rose a drink held hand from one of two seats at the head of the table, addressing their newest addition with a tilt of his mead. “Welcome,” he announced, voice loud enough for all to hear. “I... was unaware that Midgard would be joining us."

The Queen of Midgard gave a beatific smile, eyes calculating intelligently as she simply answered, "I'm afraid we weren't able to reply positively to your invitation. We didn't receive it, you see - it must have gotten lost somewhere between our realms.”

Loki held back a smirk, impressed that a mortal would so subtly poke at the King of Asgard. No invitation had been sent to Midgard, for this event nor for all the events that had already passed, and no doubt she knew it just as everyone else around the table knew it. _Fascinating,_ Loki thought to himself; he had no idea Midgardians had evolved in intelligence.

"What my husband meant to say," Queen Frigga said with her own beatific smile, "Is that we are honoured to have you here, Queen Virginia of Midgard. It has long passed the time Midgard should join us."

“Indeed!” Thor agreed, brightening up considerably as he took in the Queen beside Loki. “Now we are truly complete! All the nine realms feasting together in one hall! This is most excellent!”

The tension in the room immediately dropped at that, the Royal dignitaries relaxing at the boisterous attitude of the Crown Prince of Asgard. Loki held back the sudden burst of annoyed disdain, far too used with tye ease at which all but few mindlessly followed the oaf’s naive nature, but wasn’t stupid enough not to realise its many benefits, especially when Loki himself tended to reap said benefits.

Beside him, the dark elf dignitary gave a pleased hum, moving closer to Loki as if to share a secret, their heads coming closer for privacy. “This is... delightful,” Malakeith breathed, lips twitching as dark eyes shined with barely suppressed joy. “I had thought this bore of an obligation would hold no interest besides yourself.”

Loki felt his lips curl up despite himself at the compliment as he all but huddled closer, replying with his own quite, “Oh, you flatter me, Malakeith. But this is indeed quite a turn of events, is it not? Tell me, how long do you think they’ll last in a hall full of Gods?”

Malakeith gave a low but visible laugh, eliciting a warning glare from Odin that Loki caught from the corner of his eye. He ignored him, something like excitement thrumming through his previously bored veins as the dark elf read right through him and replied, “While we dark elves may be scattered and few, do not mistake us for imbeciles. All know not to wager on chaos in the presence of its God. You tell me, Silvertongue, how long will they last in a hall full of Gods?”

Pursing his lips at the lost opportunity of a bet, Loki obligingly eyed the newcomers and their countenance for the answer. No matter how much he tried to read the Queen and her silver knight, Loki found his attention time and time again returning to the knight of red and gold, to the dark eyes and the almost lazy stance he stood in at his Queen’s shoulder, to the quelling look he’d received from his fellow warrior.

“The colour choice is indeed of interest,” Malakeith agreed, no doubt catching where his focus kept wandering too. “The Queen's attire is suitable for her role and the function that she graces, the silver knight is also suitable, as her show of power and protection, but the... almost brash explosion of colour of the other is almost as if he were-”

“-Nobility.” Loki finished, nodding in confirmation. “Perhaps he is not as trained as the other, and only allowed to accompany the Queen as a favour to a high lord of Midgard.”

“Then you suspect he may cause an unfavourable incident for his realm?”

Loki rolled the question in his mind for a moment, drinking in the cues in front of him. As food and drink quickly began pouring in and being laid all over the tables, Loki watched as the Queen effortlessly navigated the minefield that was the envious Vanaheim to her right, diffusing the famous elf temper with compliments on the dignitaries own attire. Loki did not know what information Midgard had on the other realms – he doubted they had any, truly – meaning the Queen had quickly and effectively sussed out the Vanir’s temperamental nature and dealt with it easily.

Impressive, that.

The silver knight behind her stayed standing, ramrod still with his back straight and his expression worthy of his title. Despite all that, Loki could see his attention split between his Queen, the surrounding figures of both dignitaries, Thor, and the going ons of the servants, and even dart towards all the exits the grand hall had to offer. Strategic, then. Alert. Aware of the precarious and dangerous situation they were in as the weakest of the nine realms.

Interesting. But Loki doubted any chaos would come from that.

And once more, again, Loki found himself eyeing the third Midgardian. Attired in what seemed to be a predominately red armour accentuated with gold, this knight slouched where he stood behind his Queen’s right shoulder. The armour _reeked_ of abnormality, more so than the silver knight’s which had already caught the attention of none-too pleased dwarves. They were all but hissing at the gold armour, hackles raised, which Loki knew meant they did not understand it, could not fathom it’s make.

So where, exactly, had the Midgardian gotten it from?

No doubt they too were thinking that, wishing to demand the knowledge but holding their tongue. For now, at least. The dwarves held no subtlety in their ire, and were refreshing in their blunt honesty and razor sharp tongues – no doubt they wouldn’t be holding their tongue on the matter of _both_ Midgardian’s craftsmanship for much longer. There – yes, _there_ – lay the stirrings of chaos, the faint potential Loki could almost – _almost_ – taste on his tongue.

But no, not yet.

The most tastiest of potential hung around the golden mortal, was thick in the air like tension on his lax shoulders, in the smirk he sent over to his fellow guard. The danger lay in those dark eyes that skimmed over the seated dignitaries, that winked at one of the passing servant girls, and – to Loki’s growing curiosity – did the same to another passing servant _boy_.

Those dark eyes swept over the row opposite his Queen, taking in the Jotnar’s skin, the no doubt hostile glare of the dwarves. His expression went impish, a quick flash of teeth in self amusement, growing for a moment in response to the long suffering look his friend gave him before disappearing. The mortal moved on to Malakeith and Loki himself, the god of chaos watching as something curious flickered across his expression at the no doubt close quarters they shared.

And when they made eye contact, when their gazes caught and held, Loki realised something that almost had him licking his lips. For he could see the borders between mere mischief and full blown chaos, could sense the level of danger and the possible exhilaration, and here, _here_ he found himself certain that this man – this _mortal_ – was firmly entrenched in the latter, in Loki’s domain.

Holding the eye contact, Loki finally responded to Malakeith’s question. “My dear friend,” he all but purred, the sensation of something _new_ piquing his interest as the mortal quirked an eyebrow. “I believe you’re nomadic Queen may very well find it unfortunate that she could not be here.”

“That _is_ unfortunate.” Malakeith responded, eyebrows raised. “I suppose I’ll have to stay alert, to make sure I can recount everything to her in perfect detail, then.”

“Oh, she will be most pleased with you, no doubt.” Loki agreed, the spell between him and the mortal breaking as Thor jarred the table, the oaf. He turned to Malakeith then, taking in the unconvinced expression, and gave the elf a dangerous smile. “Perhaps enough to make you her King.”

The dark elf’s expression morphed to one that mirrored Loki’s own, something appraising as he took in Loki’s confidence, as he glanced at the now distracted mortal and back again. “If nothing else, Silvertongue,” he murmured quietly once more, the words meant only for their ears, “You are as fascinating and captivating as they say.”

Loki’s smile turned no less dangerous as he replied, “Oh, you flatter me.”

**Author's Note:**

> you love 616 tony? i love 616 tony. you love AA tony? i love AA tony. you love MCU tony? i love MCU tony. I love _all_ the tony's. and all the jarvis'. join me, in my love of the tony's at [multistarks](http://multistarks.tumblr.com/). pls.


End file.
